fancy-smancy,
monkeys hobbling with
their rye,
and i stare clean through
stain glass eyes,
and i stare mean when
they don't get confessional.

secrets in turn,
secrets for the sacrifice
of my time,
no sympathy,
that ain't going to
help you one bit.

shards of glass,
shards of memory,
slitting wrists
and broken kiss,
through the fall
of sanity in sheets,
in monkey fevers,
in worship or
whatever.

i'm dressed up in
a fish bowl of time,
you look from the
outside,
and you laugh,
tap on the glass,
and i act like i'm
going to show you,
and i act like i'm
going somewhere
but you will pull
me out when i
go belly up and
that's that.

that's all there ever was.